


sins of the father

by Miraphina Atherton (mew_tsubaki)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, M/M, Slow Build, bkgd Wolfstar & Oriolphard for Plot Reasons, but nothing rly beyond a strong T rating, cameos from a bunch of others
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/Miraphina%20Atherton
Summary: There is an unmistakable quirk flowing in the veins of Orion Black. Naturally, his sons inherit it. .::Regulus-centric Regideon; forhprarepairneton tumblr::.
Relationships: Regulus Black/Gideon Prewett
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	sins of the father

**Author's Note:**

> The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. Read, review, and enjoy! *Done for the weekly prompt (Marauders era ship) for hprarepairnet on tumblr.*

Regulus grows up believing love is a word to be found in a dictionary.

There is no love to be found in the house at Twelve Grimmauld Place and not much to be found in the Black family tree. Regulus has Sirius, of course, but Sirius never utters the word to him nor Regulus to Sirius. That's never bothered Regulus much. They're brothers—a bond that's spoken for, just unspoken, more evident as they grow up from being happily unknowing tykes to children and young adults with working mouths that get them in trouble with their parents more often than not.

Regulus doesn't hate Sirius for being Sorted into Gryffindor last fall, although he keeps his opinions quietly to himself when Sirius comes home from his first year and the brothers Black listen to their mother railing at them day in and day out over the serious mistake the elder made at Hogwarts. Sirius doesn't make a pun of her screeches but instead silently implores his younger brother across the dinner table:

_"It is not a mistake to be yourself."_

Sage advice from a twelve-year-old wizard with passing marks in the simplest magicks, those of a first year. Regulus dwells on the repeated warning/plea in Sirius' eyes that summer, well knowing that he will face the first of his many Hogwarts trials in just over a month, because he'll be starting this year.

He'll be starting at Hogwarts, a place away from here, a place with Sirius—

—a place with lessons he believes Orion and Walburga Black incapable of teaching him.

* * *

He succeeds yet fails his first trial: The Sorting.

The moment the Sorting Hat shouts, "Slytherin," Regulus develops an upset stomach. He's equal parts relieved and disappointed, and he nearly trips on his way to the emerald-clad table, purposefully avoiding Sirius' searching gaze zeroed in on his back.

Narcissa, currently a sixth year but still kind to her kin since he's just starting out, pats the spot on the bench beside her. On her one side is Malfoy, her future fiancé if the family gossip is true, but her other side is free as Bellatrix's brother-in-law, Rabastan, slides down with a shrug in reply to Narcissa's raised eyebrows.

"Welcome to Slytherin House," Narcissa tells him while the Sorting continues. Regulus can see Malfoy's offended gape behind her head, given that the Head Boy or Girl tends to do the welcoming and she is neither, but Narcissa pointedly ignores him and smiles until she can coax one from her little cousin. "Welcome to your new home," she adds in a soft, friendly whisper.

Perhaps more than being Sorted into the House of his family over his brother's, his stomach clenches as Regulus makes an involuntary connection. It's something of an instinctive reaction to the word "home," given all its personal and gruesome connotations for him. But then Regulus relaxes, because Narcissa is smarter than others give her credit for, because she has to have guessed if not heard how bad Twelve Grimmauld Place has come to be, and that is why she explicitly said "new."

It's the first time he's had acceptance or approval from someone other than Sirius in a long, long time, and it makes it a little bit easier to swallow, the way his gray robes morph into emerald and silver.

* * *

…nothing makes it easy to swallow the hurt Regulus feels when Sirius avoids him for a full two weeks, though, when classes officially start.

Initially, Narcissa's platitudes were soothing, even as she tried to avoid calling Sirius a traitor outright. But now her words have dissolved into pitying glances before Malfoy or her friends steal her attention back.

Regulus hasn't made any friends of his own yet. His prior connections to so many of the older Slytherins have set him apart from the other boys in his dormitory. At this point, Regulus thinks one of them is named "Runcorn," but he can't be certain and he can't be bothered to care much when they all keep to themselves.

Regulus' forced solitude is broken in late September when he crosses paths with Sirius and his group near the Great Hall, shortly before dinner. Other students ebb and flow around them, and Potter and a few of the other blokes stare at Sirius without saying anything. But Sirius waves them off, and his friends meld into one larger group without him.

Sirius approaches his brother, and they step off to the side, not quite in the shadow of the nearest door but still rather out of sight. Even in this half-light, Sirius' expression is ever-changing, flickering like the hall's candles. He's at war with himself over what to say, Regulus guesses correctly, so he starts their conversation himself.

"I'm glad to be here at last."

They're weak words…to anyone else's ear. To Sirius, Regulus conveys the relief he's had to tamp down around their family, and it melts the ice. Sirius' eyes rove over him instead, and he tousles Regulus' hair the same way he's done all these years. "Me, too," he agrees, and his voice cracks halfway with emotion, and Regulus believes him.

They turn and enter the hall together, small but triumphant smiles on their faces because separate Houses can't break their bond. Sirius heads for the Gryffindor table automatically, but he pauses and looks over his shoulder at Regulus.

"You could join us, if you want. I promise, no matter the dreck that comes out of James' mouth, he is worth knowing. As are the others."

Regulus fidgets, debating the implications if he joins Sirius on occasion, if at all. It can be forgiven, can't it? Sirius is his big brother. Just because he's a lion, doesn't mean—

He makes the mistake of catching attention from the Slytherin table. Malfoy childishly sneers at him. But Narcissa and Rabastan catch his eye; they're sitting across from each other today, and both sets of blue eyes are unblinking as they give subtle shakes of their heads.

His heart sits low in his rumbling, unsettled stomach as he, too, shakes his head, and Regulus drops his eyes so he doesn't have to see Sirius' shoulders fall…which is little help, given that he can read his brother's defeated body language in his shadow. "Another time," Regulus promises, but it sounds like a fib to his ears.

Sirius nods and says nothing more. He pats Regulus' shoulder, ushering him the tiniest bit towards the snake pit as he heads for the lion den.

Regulus can feel the pout tugging the corners of his mouth down, but a few calming breaths allow him to slip on a mask, a familiar one from all the times he didn't want his parents to see their threats working to frighten him. Then he makes his way to the dinner table, beside Rabastan and across from Narcissa.

He has nothing to contribute to the conversation because Rabastan and Narcissa are grumbling about what N.E.W.T.s they have to prep for right now well before their final year arrives. But during a lull in their chat, Rabastan bumps his elbow with Regulus' and offers him an approving smile.

Regulus wonders. Rabastan is the younger of two brothers—maybe he's been through something like this, too? Maybe it's—it's normal. Maybe it gets better.

"Maybe" is a word that snatches up all of Regulus' free time for the rest of his first year.

* * *

By the time spring rolls around, Regulus is ready to be a second year, even though finals are still a few months away. He's kept himself busy with studies and random ponderings about the older students who treat him kindly even if out of pity, and he's let his mind stray a time or two to trying out for the Quidditch team next year, if he's earned that right having left no mark on the Black family name at all this year.

The desire to play Quidditch for real and not simply gawk at the occasional game his father and (more regularly) his uncles took him and Sirius to becomes an itch in his feet, and Regulus smartly pulls himself from his books in the dungeons to breathe in the fresh air outside. Hogwarts is quite beautiful framed in vibrant, lively viridian.

On his stroll through the halls, Regulus notes how the hubbub ahead of him has dimmed and come to dead silence. He picks his head up.

There they are. All seven of the Gryffindor second-year boys. Hogwarts often averages five boys and five girls in each House each year, but some years are thin and others are full—like Sirius'. Regulus shares his dorm with only three boys, Runcorn included. It's actually made it quite easy to avoid his roommates thusly.

But Sirius and his roommates can't be avoided when they're dead ahead. Regulus resists the temptation to search for accusatory eyes around him, but Sirius catches his brother's fear and scans the side courtyard with Potter and Lupin. He and Potter release an audible sigh Regulus can hear all the way down the open corridor, and then Sirius jogs to him, a few others trailing behind him and the rest lingering in place, curious to watch the upcoming exchange.

"No one's breathing down our necks today," Sirius assures him upon approach. He holds one hand up, steady, as if calming a feral animal; it's a gesture that makes Regulus scowl. "Honest!" Sirius says, misinterpreting his annoyance as mistrust. "It's the last Hogsmeade trip before finals, so no one third year and up is around."

Regulus blinks. Of course. No wonder it had been so easy to ghost through the castle today. Slightly emboldened, Regulus slips his bag off and nestles himself on the stone ledge of the cutout in the corridor wall, and Sirius joins him. "Never thought it'd get this empty," he quips, looking out at all the available space.

"The wonder of Hogsmeade," Sirius says. He doesn't point out that, starting next year, he'll probably be one of those third years to flee the castle every time there's a trip. Regulus appreciates that.

Behind Sirius is a cough. Potter stands nearby, Lupin just slightly further back.

"Ah, right. Regulus, James," Sirius introduces. Potter nods, although he's got the confident stance of someone at least three years older. Sirius points to Lupin. "Regulus, Remus."

Lupin's smile is soft, friendly, and weak-willed—Regulus would know, because it's the same smile he's caught in the mirror the last few years at home. "Did you want to join us?" Lupin asks, pulling Regulus from his analysis. He holds up a text.

Sirius groans like a dog begging for food. " _Moony_ , please…! It's too nice a day for studying…!"

"No one's actually studying, anyway!" calls one of the redheads resting on a cutout further ahead. Said redhead crumples a ball of parchment in his hand, spells it red, and flings it through the circle a round boy makes with his fingers across the grass. Mini Quidditch, Regulus notes with some interest.

"It's just for a bit anyway. The older students will be back in another hour or two," Potter clarifies.

Regulus meets Potter's gaze. It's strong and indecipherable; he has yet to develop an opinion of Regulus, presumably at Sirius' insistence that the dinner table fiasco ought to be pardoned. But Regulus nods, somewhat thankful. If he isn't careful watching his time, Potter will. This awkward imbalance goes both ways, it seems.

Regulus shoulders his bag, and Sirius' face lights up as he gets to his feet at the same time. Potter walks back to their group ahead of them, but Lupin waits and takes up the other spot at Sirius' side.

Sirius points to everyone in turn, introducing them to Regulus. "Pete," he says of the portly Pettigrew who sits on the grass with his hands still shaped like a Quidditch post. A chubby but noticeably slimmer than Pettigrew boy with a slight overbite grins and nods to him as Sirius introduces him as Frank Longbottom. The redheads are identical twins—"Fabian and Gideon Prewett," Sirius announces proudly as he points from left to right at the boys sitting to Longbottom's right, making Regulus furrow his brow in confusion.

"We only _look_ identical, Sirius," Fabian points out with tired, half-lidded eyes. "We don't have the same personality, mate." He shrugs at Regulus.

Gideon is kinder, offering up a polite wave not unlike Lupin. "Plus, I'm clearly the smar—"

"You're not the smarter one! Our marks are the exact same!" Fabian snipes.

It's not just that everyone else laughs, nor that Fabian turns as red as his hair. It's that Gideon looks so kind and then says something so infuriating nonchalantly.

It's the first time since coming here that Regulus has felt the irresistible pull in his chest that is a laugh, and it nearly escapes him. He tamps it down until it's a smirk, but Potter and then Sirius catch it, and suddenly Regulus is the center of attention.

Thank Merlin none of the idiots points it out, Regulus relaxing around them. Instead, they resume their antics as if absorbing Regulus into the group was expected. As Regulus is torn between reading around the ruckus—his original intention in coming outside today—and joining in the Quidditch talk, he takes Longbottom's seat on the cutout to Gideon's left and quietly watches the on-goings.

He's eleven, not obtuse, but Regulus ignores the twins' open stares until Fabian gives up and cajoles the others alongside Potter, that a quick game of real Quidditch would cure them of their idle fidgeting. While Lupin gripes about not being in the mood for flying and Longbottom doubts his broom skills, Gideon stays put on the cutout, sitting up properly instead of slouching and turning towards Regulus a little.

"You prefer the quiet, don't you?" Gideon guesses as Regulus watches the scene before him with mild interest.

But, no, Gideon is wrong. Everything goes wrong when it's too quiet. Regulus sorely misses being a boisterous toddler, running after his big brother around the house and not worrying about the weight of the Black name.

Gideon ignores Fabian when asked for his opinion about breaking into the broom shed if Sirius and Potter can guarantee Hooch won't be after them. He keeps his blue eyes on Regulus, waiting for an answer.

"I hate it," the younger Black finally confesses, the three words barely a whisper.

There's hooting and hollering in front of them, but Gideon hears Regulus' words, no doubt. That, or he can read lips. Either way, his eyes widen and his mouth opens just slightly.

But Regulus gets to his feet just as Fabian and Lupin turn, wondering about the holdup, and any chances of Regulus' answer turning into a conversation vanish faster than the remaining food in the dining hall when it's bedtime.

* * *

There are two months left of the year, and they fly by more pleasantly than Regulus would've thought last fall.

He can't be seen with Sirius' entire lot…but one at a time, by chance, in the halls or not, is all right. Regulus doesn't have much to say to any of them aside from Sirius, and Sirius is the one he sees most often on the way between classes. Although Regulus is quick to realize his brother hadn't merely been talking up his friendships before now; where Sirius is, Potter and Lupin are likely to be nearby.

On the train home, Sirius' compartment is full, so Regulus finds himself in one with Runcorn (he thinks) and the second-year snake Sirius' lot loves to gripe about, Severus Snape. Regulus has nothing to say to them, but Snape sits opposite, so Regulus surveys him.

Snape keeps to himself in the dungeons and at meals, and Regulus would guess it has something to do with his friendship with that Evans girl in Gryffindor. Something about their friendship irks Regulus. How is it no one's warning Snape away from lion alliances? Is it that no one cares about Snape? Or is a misstep from the House of Black just that more important than some no-name half-blood's ill-advised bond?

Regulus sits with his mouth cupped in his palm and fumes out the window until the train rolls into King's Cross Station. His jealousy flames out when he's able to reunite unashamed with his brother—

—and their celebration is short when they spy their father in the crowd, waiting to drag them home.

* * *

When their marks arrive, the tension in the house alleviates.

"Perhaps you're not a waste," Walburga says with a dismissive look to Sirius.

He doesn't flinch, but Regulus glances the clench of his brother's hands behind his back.

"Regulus…good work," Walburga says to her youngest. "No less from what I'd expect of you."

Shame and pride war inside his chest, both rushing to light his cheeks aflame. He knows they're comparing him to Sirius, which he hates. But he also worked long and hard, and it's nice to know his efforts paid off.

Before he can realize his unfamiliar delight has pushed his hopes to spill out of his mouth, Regulus asks, "Mother, I was wondering—"

The house stills. Orion is not home right now, but even Kreacher's slight noises in the kitchen stop. Regulus wonders if Sirius has stopped breathing beside him. Walburga's gray eyes alight on Regulus, waiting.

"—there are House Quidditch teams, as you know, and I was…hoping…" He falters, seeing the lack of interest in her stare.

How strange, to see a total lack where Sirius' friends had thought him an endless curiosity.

Regulus catches himself, though. Though Orion and Walburga know their sons are weak, they don't like seeing it on display. So Regulus clears his throat. He will be twelve soon; he's more than halfway to being a man. "I am going to try out for Slytherin's team."

The quiet lingers in the house. Walburga's letters—Sirius' and Regulus' marks—rest in her hand in her lap. Either she is impressed by his bold proclamation or she doesn't care enough to handle it. "…talk to your father." So it's the latter.

When she leaves her sons, Regulus shares an incredulous look with Sirius and it's all they can do not to yelp in joy. It's the first time either of them has come close to getting something they wanted from their parents.

They shuffle out of the sitting room and pass through the kitchen on their way to the backyard, Sirius pilfering tonight's dessert as a snack along the way and Regulus apologizing to Kreacher before he pulls the door shut behind them. Their backyard is a magically created one because townhouses don't go hand-in-hand with outdoor space, but it's big enough for the brothers to lounge about. Sometimes they sit on the back steps. Other times, like today, they tuck themselves into the far corner, half hidden amongst the shrubbery and wearing matching grins.

"Did you _see her face_?!" Sirius hisses at him, delighted. "I thought she'd blanch, having to discuss Quidditch!"

"Do you think Father will sign off on it?"

Sirius purses his lips and breaks off part of the pastry, passing it to Regulus while he thinks. "If he's in a good mood. But sell yourself as a decent flier—didn't you tell me that Hooch commended you the most in your year? Quidditch means fame and accolades. And they're nothing if not esteem-hungry."

Regulus' eyebrows lift. Sirius has always been a quick thinker on his feet, but he appreciates now more than ever to have his brother in his corner.

"Oh, but watch out for James. He's planning to try out, too. Chaser," Sirius elaborates when Regulus leaves one eyebrow quirked. "You're still tiny, though—maybe you should go for Seeker?"

"I'm not _that_ small," Regulus chides him, and he looks to Sirius as his future. Sirius grew two whole inches by the end of the school year, and he's lanky. Regulus can see him being tall and handsome, and Regulus wants to be like him.

* * *

Regulus lucks out. Sirius was right; catching Orion in a good humor was the key to selling him on Quidditch.

Oftentimes if they can smell even the faintest whiff of firewhiskey on Orion, that's the signal to run and hide or face the back of his hand. But when Orion comes home, smelling of alcohol or not, with either Uncle Alphard or Uncle Cygnus—or both—in tow, that means he's in good spirits.

The memory plays over and over in Regulus' head on the train back to Hogwarts in September. Orion and Alphard in the vestibule, Orion snickering because Cygnus cut out early after learning he'd bet on the wrong team and would have to scrounge up his debt to his brother-in-law. Orion had kept grinning at Alphard, who only ever rolled his eyes in return. But both pairs of eyes were on Regulus when he'd reiterated his tryout declaration to his father and emphasized how good a flier he was.

Orion had barked out a laugh and muttered something to Alphard about placing future bets, which had earned him yet another eye-roll. But, drunk though he'd been, Orion had said yes emphatically and traipsed to his study with the cares of an unburdened man. At least Alphard had patted Regulus' cheek and clamped a reassuring hand on his shoulder before following Orion to the patriarch's study.

Regulus changes into his robes early once Evans comes calling on her best mate, because he's not certain he wants to be around her and Snape. He's heard the whispers about her—that she's a Muggle-born—and he's undecided how it sits with him. Sirius' group, at least, is mostly purebloods, with the exception of Lupin and Pettigrew, who are half, and the irony's not lost on the younger Black brother that, even escaping their family's House, his brother has mostly stuck with their family's prejudices so far.

They're less than an hour from the castle, and Regulus is stuck searching for a compartment that he can stand. Narcissa's is full, but he finds he no longer desires the older students' pity or begrudging acceptance.

Searching around, he knows exactly where to find Sirius and the other three that comprise the "Marauders"—a ridiculous moniker for his brother, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew which Sirius is intent on never explaining, no matter Regulus' tries this past summer. The loudest compartment in the car is theirs, so Regulus moves on and dawdles when, two compartments down, he spies the twins and Longbottom along with some witch.

Regulus frowns, glances up and down the corridor, and risks a gentle rap on the door glass.

The four students look up, and Longbottom lets him in since he's closest. "Regulus! Good to see you," he says with a practiced friendliness that Regulus long ago determined is ingrained in Longbottom's personality.

"Oi," Fabian says at the same time Gideon says, "Hey." Fabian leans back in his seat, undisturbed by Regulus' arrival, but Gideon leans forward. At least someone's glad to have him here.

"By the way, this is Alice," Longbottom says of the witch on the bench beside him.

Her spiky hair is odd to him—witches are wearing their hair all sorts of ways these days—but her snub nose is a detail he notes right away, although it's not unflattering on her the way it is on other Bulstrodes Regulus has seen photos of. She holds her hand out for him to shake. "Alice Bulstrode," she says, confirming Regulus' deduction. "It's nice to meet Sirius' brother. I've heard a little about you from Frank and the boys."

Seeing as she wants to talk with him, Regulus darts his eyes to the twins and raises his eyebrows. Fabian doesn't move an inch, but Gideon scoots closer to the window. The space is narrow and damn if Sirius isn't right—Regulus is still a slip of thing and therefore fits perfectly between them.

Bulstrode is full of idle chatter that Longbottom is happy to engage when Regulus lets the conversation go slack. The twins pipe up here and there, but Regulus isn't completely bombarded with questions, so…this is almost nice. At the very least, it's a way to kill the time, and it's a lot better than having to get sick at the sight of Snape and Evans and yet even better than being stuck in silence with his own thoughts.

When the students disembark for the carriages, Regulus bids the third years a polite farewell and thankfully finds his compartment empty so he can grab his rucksack and trunk. Out on the dirt path from the train, however, they catch up with him. At least, Gideon does.

Regulus bites back the quip on his tongue— _"You're not here for another chance to stare at the freak that is Sirius' baby brother, are you?"_ —because he can't make up his mind about Gideon Prewett. There's this quiet, curious excitement to him. Regulus wonders if this is how Gideon approaches everything new in his life.

Before Regulus can snap at him, though, Gideon stops sneaking glances of him out of the corner of his eye and begins to hum to himself, something nonsensical and rather out of tune. He's not staring anymore, but he's filling the quiet, too, and Regulus finds comfort in it the way he had in the chatter of the compartment just now.

But when Fabian locates his twin and finds Regulus beside him, he cocks his head to one side, questioning, and Regulus grumbles at Gideon in undertones. "You sound like a loon, humming to yourself."

"Saved you from the silence, though, didn't it?"

"I'd rather just have normal conversation."

It slips out before Regulus can take it back. Gideon's wide-eyed look mirrors Regulus', but the second year stomps off and finds a Slytherin-only carriage before Gideon can exclaim at the breakthrough one of them has had with Sirius' younger brother.

* * *

Slughorn finds it admirable that Regulus wants to play Quidditch and, being a good Head of House, reminds the young lad to keep his marks up. Hooch smirks when Regulus goes to her and only questions why he didn't approach her last year.

"But—" Regulus stares at her, dumbfounded. "But I was only a first year, Madam Hooch."

"I could see the grip you had on that practice broomstick, a grip no one else had. You aren't just good at flying, Mr. Black. You _love_ it." And that's that, as she has nothing else to say and her yellow eyes tell him it isn't a discussion anyway.

He doesn't need to tryout with her; Hooch already knows his abilities. The Slytherin captain, however, is his next task, but luckily Hooch's approval and a demonstration of Regulus' speed are enough to have him agreeing. Gordon Montague is a tall but heavyset sixth year with the kind of brooding stare that begs his team's confidence in him. "Seeker," he says with finality, and Regulus is too happy to grumble that, once again, Sirius is right.

One plus to his time on the pitch, once his practice gear and uniform come in, is that he's further out of Narcissa's sight. Rabastan had been a Beater last year, but he's retired now, focusing on his studies instead. The others on the team—Davis and Davidson (he can never keep their names straight), Harper, Dobbs, Matthias, Mulciber, Heyworth, and Zhou—don't have much interest in their new reserve Seeker. Mulciber comes as close as he can get, but that just means it's one person Regulus ought to avoid, and he won't be able to avoid other people in other Houses when there's a real game going.

Dobbs, affectionately referred to as "The Waif" but the more senior members of the team for his gaunt silhouette, is the starting Seeker, but he doesn't have it in for Regulus the way Regulus feared. If anything, Dobbs seems quite tired for a fifth year. A time or two, Regulus thinks he hears mouth noises about Dobbs abandoning this passing fancy now that Regulus is here.

In the hallways, Regulus still very much sticks to himself, but he can't help a bit of friendly inter-House antagonizing when he crosses paths with Sirius' lot. Longbottom and Lupin are daft, giving him big grins for making the cut, but Potter plays along with Sirius and dramatically stages a rivalry. "I'll see you on the pitch!" Potter obnoxiously snarls at him with Sirius posturing at his side.

The sight often threatens to make Regulus laugh because, as Chaser and Seeker, Potter isn't even on Regulus' watch list.

Fabian and Pettigrew seem truly affronted that Regulus will, indeed, be playing for the enemy, but Gideon is the one who pipes up that he'll be rooting for Regulus.

Regulus cranes his neck up at the older boy to gape at him. "But…if they let me play at all this season, I'll be opposing Gryffindor. You're really going to root for the enemy, Prewett?"

He frowns. Perhaps he thought that Sirius' introduction and the more time Regulus spent with them meant a first-name basis. "I'm just cheering on a friend, Regulus," he says, saying his first name a tad too loud to confirm that, yes, he really does intend to be friends.

All Regulus can do is furrow his brow and stare at Gideon as if he's insane. Truthfully, he never thinks of the twins by their surnames—it'd be different if they didn't look alike—but…he hasn't thought before that his brother's friends could be his friends, too. Regulus hasn't even thought of having friends at all, to be honest. Even his teammates are just teammates and nothing more.

But…if there are fewer reproving persons around, then…maybe it's all right to risk it?

He stood up for his love of Quidditch. Maybe he can be bold enough to grasp this new experience in front of him, too.

Gideon watches the gears turn in his head but, frustrated by Regulus' silence, sighs and heads for his next class.

Words fail him, and it's pointless to call Gideon back now, but Regulus decides he meant what he said by the carriages. Simple conversation is best, and he hopes he gets more chances—at least, with Gideon—for it in the future.

* * *

Practice is grueling and feels for naught when Regulus watches their first match, against Hufflepuff, from the bench. His mood sours more with the first Hogsmeade trip of the year being the following weekend. Slytherin's team bonds through wins and practice; they scant socialize off the pitch, and Regulus is a year too young anyway.

Not to mention, as he suspected all along, Sirius' lot jumps at the chance for their first visit to the village, so even on an empty campus Regulus remains down in the dumps in a way he hadn't the year before.

Regulus fills his free day with flying and doodling plays on scrap parchment, as if he might be captain one day. When he's had enough, he lands and crams his things into his bag, broom in hand and ready to enjoy a long bath back in the dorm over a quick shower in the locker room.

He's halfway from the pitch to the castle when someone calls out to him. Regulus pauses and sees a red head of hair jogging towards him, arms full. Ah, so Sirius' lot was back already.

"Oh, good!" Gideon's grin is bright and big as he skids to a stop beside Regulus. Something falls out of his pile of loot. "Bugger."

He bends down to get it at the same time as Regulus, and they clonk heads. Regulus winces and shoots Gideon a dirty look. He puts the item on the top. "How are you even going to make it back to the tower like this?"

"I'm talented," Gideon replies, and he laughs at his own quip.

"Fabian won't help you?"

Gideon glances over his shoulder, squinting. "Nah. I came back ahead of the others. The gents grabbed a big table at the Three Broomsticks and conned some of the girls to join them. I think James is just hoping for Lily to join in, too."

Regulus blinks. "Wait—as in…?"

"Lily Evans. Red-haired witch, green eyes. She's tops at Potions, better than me and Remus put together."

Oh, good grief. Regulus can only picture the drama now, knowing the way Snape looks at Evans and Gideon implying Potter fancies her, too. Regulus shakes his head, done with the topic already. "Why didn't you stay?" he asks as he resumes his trek home.

Gideon falls into step beside him; Regulus' legs are longer, but Gideon's taller by almost a head right now, so keeping up is no trouble. "I thought it'd be nice to share with you."

Regulus' eyes dart to the joke items and candy in Gideon's arms. Then he drags his gray eyes up to meet Gideon's blue ones. "I'm not big on candy."

Gideon frowns and somehow manages to pat Regulus' head. "I didn't think we hit our heads _that_ hard…"

Regulus swats him away. "Stop that."

Finally the twin gets a good look at him. "Oh, good Godric. I was right to find you near the pitch—you were working out, weren't you?"

The phrase makes Regulus want to preen a little, as if he's making strides to stand on a level field with the older players. But he downplays it, correcting, "I was just logging some airtime. You should be back in Hogsmeade, though."

"Here," Gideon declares, shoving something small into Regulus' hand. "You're obviously delirious and close to catching your death without a cloak on you. Eat that and warm up."

Regulus frowns as the item—looks like a Pepper Imp, if he recalls correctly a memory of Cygnus slipping one into Alphard's dessert at a family dinner when Regulus was younger. He hadn't envied poor Uncle Alphard back then, biting into it unexpectedly. But Gideon is unyielding and makes a point of waiting for Regulus to try it. So he bites into it, the tiniest of owl-like nips, and lets the chewy candy melt on his tongue.

It's not bad if one's expecting it. Not to mention, allowing it to melt sends much-needed warmth throughout his body. Regulus keeps this in mind for the next time it's chilly and they've got practice.

He realizes Gideon's waiting for a reaction. "It's good," he admits, and he's content to nibble on the rest as Gideon chatters at him about the rest of his experience on the way inside the castle.

* * *

Regulus is good at keeping his nose in his books. These days, he has Quidditch to juggle, too, but he's honestly more studious than ever. Perhaps he wants those high marks again, he muses with a stray thought to Walburga's approval. …perhaps he wants to meet expectations now that he's set them, especially so high.

But, though he's good at keeping his nose in his books and in his own business, sometimes Regulus finds his eyes wandering. His eyes never go very far, especially if another Slytherin sits across from him in the Great Hall or if Regulus secludes himself in a corner of the library. But, more often than not, they wander to Sirius' friends.

Now that he's into his second year of knowing them, Regulus realizes that's not quite accurate. They're Sirius' roommates, and Sirius gets on well with them, but it's not actually "Sirius' lot" at all. It's the Marauders and the hangers-on. Regulus feels a tug of guilt when he glances at Gideon when he thinks this, but it's true. It's the Marauders and those three. Or the Marauders and Longbottom and the Prewett twins. Longbottom actually spends much of his time at Bulstrode's side and vice versa, and the twins often keep to themselves when not signing off approval on another infamous Marauders prank. And, as the year goes on, even the twins aren't inseparable, with Fabian always snagging the seat by a dark-haired girl by the name of Meadowes.

At those times, Regulus wonders if Gideon feels lonely. Maybe that's why he's trying so hard to be friends with Regulus—seeking out like kind.

For an angry moment, Regulus resents him.

Then, just the same, Regulus deflates. Does the how matter as much as the why when Gideon's intentions are on the bloody lion's sleeve?

As Regulus thinks this at lunchtime one late winter afternoon, Gideon picks his head up from his plate and spots Regulus staring. He smiles softly, sadly, and Regulus' heart falls into his stomach, because that's the smile of someone who's been found out but still hopes their friendship can continue regardless.

* * *

Through classes and matches and exams, Regulus perseveres, one foot ahead of the other, one step at a time. He's glad he's so far removed from having to figure out his future, even though he's certain either Orion or Walburga has it planned out for him. But he breathes a sigh of relief as Narcissa's exams in particular draw closer. Of course, the entire school has exams, but Narcissa will graduate and that will be one less person to report back to the family about Regulus' business.

There are another two Hogsmeade trips, one which Gideon attends and the last which he doesn't. He brings back more Pepper Imps from the second trip, but he refuses to tell Regulus why skipping the last trip is worth it.

Regulus thinks it's because of Slytherin's standing for the Quidditch Cup. The scores are in, and Slytherin is second behind Ravenclaw this year. Perhaps spending a free day with Regulus is Gideon's attempt to cheer up his friend. Regulus posits this.

Gideon's mouth quirks up at the right corner. They're on the green again, where Regulus properly met him and the others a year ago, except they sit on the grass with their backs to the stone of the courtyard's corridor, soaking up the sunshine and fresh air. "…maybe," he says finally, as if he's trying to figure out the answer for himself.

"How can you not know why you're killing time here with me?"

Gideon shrugs. "Not everything needs an explanation, needs a word put to it, Regulus."

Regulus opens his mouth to protest, but no sensible argument comes to mind. He turns away, fighting this odd feeling of comfort with Gideon's realization.

* * *

He's a good cousin, a loyal Black, as he spends part of the ride home in Narcissa's compartment to congratulate her. Luckily, she doesn't keep him tied to her, and Regulus ventures off, finding the twins and Longbottom sharing another again. Bulstrode is nowhere to be found, and Fabian sits beside Longbottom for once, so Regulus claims the open seat beside Gideon. Fabian narrows his eyes at Regulus for a fraction of a second, which Regulus neither understands nor acknowledges, but the rest of the ride is cozy enough, and Longbottom's chattiness and Gideon's conversation keeps Regulus interested until they pull into the station.

As everyone files off, Regulus caught in line ahead of Gideon, Regulus feels the weight of his trunk and his gear on his slender frame, and a tug on the hand behind him nearly throws him off-balance. He stumbles, but Gideon catches him, and he grins sheepishly when Regulus throws him a look.

"Sorry, my fault," Gideon apologizes. At Regulus' confused blinking, he continues, "Check your palm."

Regulus has no room to twist his arm around and peek at it, but he wiggles his grip on his trunk. There's a scrap of parchment there. The younger Black's eyebrows shoot up into the curls that are getting lengthy in front of his face.

"You can write me, y'know," he whispers, as if Longbottom isn't between him and the prying ears of his twin.

In another universe, Regulus would be delighted. This—this is what normal friends do.

But normal friends don't have the parents Regulus does.

"Sorry, I can't," he rushes, and he faces forward in an attempt to end the discussion right then and there.

He feels more than sees the disappointment in Gideon's body language as the students get off the train. But, out on the platform, before either Sirius or his father can find him, Gideon turns Regulus to face him and struggles to hide his frown. "Not at all?"

"We're not allowed to write," Regulus fibs. It's a partial truth. Neither he nor Sirius have ever had anyone to write, but it doesn't matter now—the people in their lives are the exact kind with which their parents wouldn't want them associating, despite the blood purity.

Gideon searches his face for a hint of the truth, holds his gaze steady, and then nods. "I'll see you at school, then. Have a good summer, Regulus."

The words "You, too, Gideon" are caught in his throat for a second, but he forces them out and catches a rewarding smile before having to turn away. It's a memory that will come to serve as a comfort from time to time this summer, though Regulus doesn't know that yet.

* * *

There are two things of note for Regulus the summer before his third year:

His hair and Sirius' is growing long, and their parents have nothing to say about that.

And Sirius has begun to spend less time with Regulus at home.

The former gives Regulus trepidation. Why would Walburga Black, who prefers everything prim and proper, neat and tidy, allow Sirius to have his shaggy mop, allow Regulus this mass of lengthening curls? The nearest he can guess is that Regulus might look more like Orion one day, as their father wears his hair to his shoulders in soft curls and never ties it back.

But Sirius' style makes less sense—Regulus can squint and picture him with his hair halfway to his back in the coming years, and that Sirius looks like Alphard. Alphard may be Walburga's brother, but she's never had a nice thing to say to him or about him. Usually she puts up with his presence because her brother and husband get along for some baffling reason.

Regulus only has all this time to waste wondering about their hair because of the second issue, that being Sirius' growing independence. It makes him frown, each time Sirius turns him down when Regulus wants to spend time with him. They don't lounge outside anymore. They don't play games indoors anymore. The most Sirius is willing to do these days is chat, but never at length. Regulus even has his brother's door shut in his face a time or two.

One of those times, Walburga walks by and she lifts her chin at Regulus. "It's best to leave him alone and find worthier pursuits," she says. There's a flat detachment to her tone, as if she no longer believes she has a fourteen-year-old son. She carries on about her day as if there's nothing amiss, too.

But Regulus knows better. Sometimes he hears animalistic noises from Sirius' room, and, if he didn't know better, Regulus would think he's taken in a stray dog. From low growls to sigh-like huffs, there's a mystery in Sirius' room that remains a mystery to Regulus, so Regulus spends as much times as possible outside on his broom to keep from dwelling on his newfound loneliness.

Hovering and doing slow loops around the backyard, out of sight of the neighboring Muggles as the other pureblood homes are bought up one townhouse at a time, Regulus is left to his thoughts about loneliness itself no matter how hard he tries. It's depressing, of course, but he's struck by some thoughts from before the school year ended, about how much he and Gideon seem to have in common.

The stray thought about the friendlier of the Prewett twins then takes Regulus mentally into his room, into his trunk, into the pocket of a pair of slacks where he stuffed Gideon's scribbled address. He suddenly has a strong desire to write him, but the desire flames out when he recalls how he'd stressed it was impossible and how Gideon frowned.

But, one slow loop later, Regulus lands on the sparse grass. Gideon's frown has morphed into that smile he gave Regulus at the last second at the station.

The memory makes Regulus smile to himself, in the presence of no one at all. His smile is accompanied by a rush of heat in his chest and on his arms despite the heat of the summer sun pushing through stubborn English clouds.

Absentmindedly, he wonders if this is what it's like to be hugged. He wouldn't know—the Black family is not known for affection—but he likes to imagine this is the case.

* * *

"You're the starting Seeker? Congratulations!"

Regulus turns at the sound of Gideon's exclamation, and he pauses in the second-floor corridor so Gideon catches up with him. "You eavesdropped," Regulus points out as he turns and continues his trek from Herbology to Defense upstairs.

"No, I happened to overhear the good news since McGonagall let us out early," Gideon corrects. He switches his bag to his other side so it won't smack into Regulus' left arm as they walk.

"She let you out early?"

"Not that she wanted to. James and Sirius were a little overzealous in planning some prank meant for Snape, and it rather blew up the classroom. She ushered the rest of us out and has them cleaning up." Gideon pauses in his story, thinking aloud, "It's strange. They used to be quite interested in Transfiguration, but they seem almost…bored with it somehow this year."

Regulus frowns. He knows Sirius has been passing so far, but he doesn't know a lick about his brother's best and worst subjects. It's a stark reminder of how the brothers' bond is changing for the worse.

Gideon eyes him and resumes their previous topic. "But, erm, yes, I saw Montague with you and couldn't help myself. Congrats again, Regulus."

The younger Black shrugs. "It was inevitable. Dobbs didn't return this year, so now we're down to one reserve Keeper and one reserve Beater since I'm starting."

"So humble." Gideon grins with a bump of his shoulder against Regulus', and he laughs when that plucks a smile from the shorter wizard. "It's good to see you enjoying yourself, y'know."

Regulus shrugs again, his smile softer now. "There's more to do when you're older. The only excitement a first year or second year could ever hope to have is—I dunno—maybe a creature loose about the castle?"

"Regulus!"

"Well, you're a fourth year. You're in your second year of Care for Magical Creatures and you don't think it's one of the most dangerous subjects to have on campus?"

Gideon half laughs, half sighs—he's exasperated. He playfully reaches for Regulus' head and rustles his hair. That's when he notices. "Oh, hey. Your hair's gotten long, hasn't it?"

Such plain words and a typical gesture Regulus ought to be used to by now for all the times Sirius has done it. But Regulus blinks and flashes back to that smile Gideon gave him ages ago. He realizes Gideon's attention makes him feel the same way that smile did back then. It's…it's nice. Not just nice to know friendship can be this grand and change his mood so completely. Gideon's attention is what's nice.

"Regulus?"

"I like it long, I think," Regulus offers finally. He snickers at Gideon. "Maybe you should try it."

Gideon winces at the mental image. "No, thanks. My sister's hair is a curly mess that I don't want to ever have to deal with…."

* * *

Compared to this time last year, Regulus is in a much better mood when he hands McGonagall his permission slip for Hogsmeade. He's one of the last ones to do so, as he dragged his feet and debated the merits of finally getting to know his roommates before ultimately choosing to go stag.

With everything in order, the third years and older students traipse down from the castle to the Wizarding village. It doesn't take long for Regulus to see a redhead fall back and head for him. Regulus purses his lips, happy Gideon joins him but also wondering what it will cost him.

Gideon lifts one unconvinced eyebrow in answer to his expression. "Come, now. It can't be that awful, hanging out with me?"

Regulus peeks around him, where Fabian and the others are swallowed up by the crowd. "They're…not going to cajole me into going with the lot of you?"

He shakes his head. "Nope. I wanted to take you on your first trip, and no one had any complaints." He pales, realizes his obvious inclusion of Sirius, and glances with wide, cautious eyes at Regulus.

It smarts, of course, but Regulus had the summer to dwell on the dynamics of his brother and his cohort since Sirius left him to his own devices. "I appreciate the thought," he says, leaning Gideon's way.

A pleased flush graces his faintly freckled cheeks and fades. "You know, I thought hormones would be delayed another year, but I was wrong."

Regulus squints at him. Puberty was evident last year. Potter's voice is more booming than before so now his shouts of "OI, EVANS!" can be heard from anywhere in the castle. Sirius sounds like a younger version of their father, an observation that sends an involuntary shiver down Regulus' back. But Gideon already had a pleasing, somewhat deep voice, and Regulus doesn't interrupt so he can enjoy more of it.

"Fabian's dating Dorcas now," Gideon announces with a sigh.

Ah, right. The Meadowes girl. "Good for him?"

Gideon dramatically sighs and leans on Regulus' shoulder. Regulus has grown, too, but Gideon's kept pace and is still almost a head taller; if he leans any harder on Regulus, he'll topple them both. "You're too goodhearted, Regulus. Don't you leave me, too, you hear?"

A million replies rest on the tip of his tongue. The two best war to be said, yet Regulus says neither. He can't believe anyone thinks of him in such a positive light.

But he also can't fathom being the one who leaves another. He's primed to be left, time and again.

Regulus likes Hogsmeade all right, although it doesn't meet his expectations. The Three Broomsticks is too crowded to have his first butterbeer, and he won't go into a place as dingy as the Hog's Head—as if it has anything to offer them regardless. He balks at the idea of Puddifoot's, but Gideon insists Madam Puddifoot's spiced pumpkin cider is an overlooked treasure. Regulus waits at the opposite end of High Street, and Gideon runs two takeaway cups to him. They sip and scald their tongues on the way to Zonko's so Gideon can make a stop, and they finish their drinks before entering Honeydukes.

The sweets shop is warm and cozy, and Regulus can appreciate it even if he has little interest in it. He stands off to the side while Gideon makes his selections, and it's entertaining watching the indigo bubblegum bubbles hang in the air around them. More so are the Lolly Loops, the Candy with a Handle™, that loop around the heads of students the moment their handles are released. A lime green one is joined by a sparkling blue one that drips with glitter as they float around Gideon's head. No matter the number of times he swats them away, they follow him around the shop until he feels pressed to purchase them. He offers either to Regulus, who shakes his head but kindly relieves Gideon of the baggy of Pepper Imps he knows Gideon bought for him.

Near the castle (because Regulus has decided, like Gideon, it's nicer to return early ahead of the stampede), Regulus digs in his pocket and pulls out a handful of Sickles.

Gideon pushes his free hand away. "My treat."

Regulus doesn't believe in free things. Everything has a cost—that's one of Orion and Walburga's few valuable lessons.

Perhaps he's an open book, because Gideon adds, "Consider it a thank-you for letting me take you around." His grin is large and toothy and bordering on laughter.

Regulus is so flustered, he forgets to take only a nibble of his third Pepper Imp. His bite is too large that he skips the smoke the sweet promises and proceeds directly to breathing fire. Gideon does finally laugh, and he guffaws when Regulus slaps his arm to shut him up before anyone else can take notice of Regulus Black looking like any other stupid teenager.

* * *

Being on the pitch all the time this year otherwise demands more of Regulus' focus, and he feels the weight of his books and assignments as he goes between classes. He's not let his marks slip a bit, but he knows he can't keep this up forever. So far Slytherin's won every game leading up to Christmas break, but Regulus desperately needs extra time to figure out how to balance his new responsibilities.

He doesn't write anyone. Never. Not even his own parents. Up 'til now, he and Sirius have obediently gone home for Christmas and Easter breaks and returned to Hogwarts quieter than they left. But this time, this year, it's different.

Regulus pens them a quick missive, about his victories and about his desire to get ahead of his classmates. The latter is a lie, but they won't agree to anything if they learn of his precarious academics.

The owl arrives shortly before students are due on the train home.

 _You may stay_.

The roundness of the lowercase letters is a trademark of Walburga's handwriting. Perhaps she believes Regulus stands a fighting chance of being the top of his class by his seventh year.

But what doesn't track is that the permission is addressed to him and Sirius both.

It's odd enough that Regulus actually leaves the Slytherin table after morning post arrives and goes directly to his brother's group. He passes the note to Sirius over Pettigrew's shoulder, and he ignores the raised eyebrows from Potter and Lupin alike. "You're staying for break?" he asks. It's too important a question to mind that others are listening in.

"I am." Sirius meets his eyes for the first time in a long while, and Regulus almost flinches. They may share the same gray eyes, but Sirius looks so much older, so unlike himself, that Regulus doubts he knows this person to whom he speaks.

When the silent stalemate continues, Lupin shifts in his seat to grab Regulus' attention. "Um, you know, it's rather common, Regulus. Loads of students have a break at the castle one year or another." He offers a brittle smile that cracks the continuity of one scar over his mouth. "I'm staying this holiday, even."

Regulus grimaces. He could care less about Lupin's plans. He spies Sirius toying with Lupin's hair when the frail boy's smile falls as Regulus turns without any sort of polite acknowledgment.

Later in the day but not late enough, Gideon finds Regulus sulking up in the Clock Tower. He's dressed properly for the weather…but also to go home.

Regulus bites back a remark about how Sirius always manages to hang on to his friends these days, even in the short-term. And Regulus is alone, yet again.

"If I'd known, I would've given you a head's up," Gideon says by way of apology.

"That's not your responsibility."

Gideon frowns and joins Regulus in watching the quiet courtyard from their perch. "It's not about responsibility, Reg. It's hard, seeing you and Sirius pull apart."

"Well, I'm sorry for ruining your day."

The twin places a hand on Regulus' right forearm and turns him so they see each other. He frowns still, but his expression is stern. "You didn't ruin my day. I just—I hurt, seeing you hurt, yeah?"

The idea is so alien to Regulus, all he can do is gape at Gideon. All he has to offer is "Oh," in understanding.

Gideon's hand tightens on his arm. He hasn't spent all his free time with Regulus because he doesn't want to be a bother, but they've been around each other long enough that Gideon knows how studious Regulus is and how tired he's been. "Just…" He tugs Regulus to him in half a hug, one-armed and reluctant because Regulus doesn't know how to react and Gideon guesses this right away.

Regulus' face is aflame, and he's suddenly relieved that he can hide his face in Gideon's chest. A niggling voice in his head taunts him for knowing social etiquette in lieu of affection, but more than that Regulus works on burning the feeling of Gideon's embrace into his memory. Gideon Prewett shows him kindness he hasn't deserved, friendship he hasn't earned. Knowing that Gideon gives these things freely without the expectation of anything in return makes the backs of Regulus' eyes prickle with the intense heat of threatening tears.

Gideon risks a chuckle when he pulls away enough to see Regulus' face, but he doesn't comment about the uncharacteristic emotion on the Slytherin's face. "You know…," he begins, slow and tentative, "…you'll be at the castle for the whole break. And the school has its own Owlery." He raises his eyebrows.

Regulus laughs. It's a wet sound, but at least he manages not to cry. He pushes playfully on Gideon's chest, not minding that Gideon keeps hold of that one arm. "…all right," he concedes.

Gideon's face radiates with utter delight. He hugs Regulus again, a bone-crushing gesture, and then straightens up when they hear Fabian walking across the courtyard, shouting for his twin aimlessly as if Gideon will pop out of thin air. "Argh, Fabian… Him and his terrible timing."

"I'll be fine," Regulus promises with a discreet swipe at his eyes, even though nothing spills out.

"I know. You're strong."

If it weren't for the way Gideon's eyes linger on him, Regulus would feel another wave of oncoming tears. He's never thought of himself as the strong one before. That's always been Sirius. …but, Regulus knows, he's been comparing himself a little less to Sirius these days, now that he's carving his own life out at Hogwarts.

"I _will_ write you, so I'd like at least one reply back," Gideon declares cheekily. He even winks as he walks away, and his grin is impish when Regulus trails after him.

"You know, if I have the time," Regulus teases. He waves a dismissive hand. "Between all the studying."

"Brat," Gideon huffs. He rustles Regulus' hair once for good measure, the curls fall slowly from his hand before he leaves, and Regulus is left standing in the Clock Tower with the comforting memory of this exchange and the promise that Gideon will be back soon enough.

* * *

That doesn't keep Gideon from reminding Regulus that he exists…only a daily basis, too.

Before bed that same night, a scrawny gray–brown owl squawks outside the dungeon doors until enough of the handful of older students also staying for break threatens the younger students to shut the bloody bird up so they can sleep. No one wants to get up, but Regulus has an idea, so he slips on his robe and pushes his feet into his slippers to check.

The owl chirps at him and nips at his fingers while he unties the notes on the bird's left leg. He unfurls it—and almost bursts out laughing.

_Regulus—_

_I was certain I could convince you when your plans were confirmed this morning, so here's my very first letter to you! I'm sure Fabian will whine when I dash off to the Owlery before the train leaves, but I'm betting this will be worth it. Looking forward to your response and hoping you get as much sleep as you do time in the library during break._

_—Gideon_

Gideon's handwriting is anything but formal, half cursive and half print. It's…very Gideon, Regulus decides. But he's not so daft as to churn out a response right now when he'd rather be buried under blankets and snoring.

* * *

The break lasts the blink of an eye. Regulus is the only third year staying in his dorm, so he unabashedly drafts and scribbles and writes until he has something stupid to send back to Gideon.

_Gideon—_

_You're an idiot if you were late for the train. But I hope Fabian didn't give you too much grief._

_—Regulus_

It really is stupid, but Regulus doesn't know how paper communication works. He scratches out a passable doodle of a Pepper Imp in the bottom corner of his letter (if it can be called that), ignores the wads of previous drafts that all missed the waste basket, and sends it off before breakfast on day one.

Owling Gideon is a comfort when, every mealtime, Regulus spies Sirius and Lupin at the Gryffindor table. There are just shy of three dozen students staying in the castle, so it's not hard to spy them. Regulus wonders how Sirius can be satisfied with only Lupin's company given that he's been with a dozen witches since the middle of the previous school year, but then Regulus ponders his own situation. He has Gideon. Regulus thought Sirius had Potter, but perhaps one's allowed more than one best mate.

Regulus occupies himself with Gideon's missives and writing him back and trying to convey his annoyance that Gideon is stunned he can draw. It's the occasional distraction from his studies, but Gideon's notes make for excellent bookmarks, especially the more Regulus reads, because they really pile up.

That's when it hits Regulus, the day before everyone's due back:

He's got piles of letters from Gideon, and nowhere to hide them once he's home.

The panic that seizes Regulus crawls up from his belly and clambers up into his chest and snatches his throat. He actually loosens his tie in the library as the anxious beast makes itself at home underneath his skin.

Sweet Salazar, _what was he thinking_? He never should've taken up Gideon on his offer, no matter how insistent. Regulus will obviously have to burn these. They're so much more than Gideon's address on a scrap piece of parchment. These he can't hide in the pockets and folds of his uniforms in his trunk.

These he can't hide…

A flash of brilliance strikes him, and he dashes to the front desk where Pince lifts her pointed beak at his arrival. "Excuse me, Madam Pince, I was wondering if you could help me find a book about Expansion Charms?"

And that's his answer. He pays half attention to Pince as she pulls five books from the shelves of the middle-grade Charms texts…because, just up the aisle, are the books on advanced Concealment Charms….

* * *

The second half of the year, Regulus often catches Gideon staring at him. When he's caught, Gideon smiles slowly, and his eyes always say the same thing: _"You're in a good mood these days."_

He first noted it the second week back after the holidays, to which Regulus had replied with a shrug. Better than admitting outright that he's figured out a way to thwart his parents at last.

Instead, Regulus is content to smirk in reply, and they carry on as if they've had this conversation a thousand times. Maybe, maybe not, since Regulus has relaxed his guard around Gideon. He cares less about the times they can be spotted together in public. Be it in the dining hall (on occasion), in the corridors, or in Hogsmeade, Regulus has a fearless flame burning in his chest.

With startling clarity, he recalls one early morning during finals that look Sirius gave him years ago and what it'd said:

_"It is not a mistake to be yourself."_

He may not get along well with his brother right now, but Regulus doesn't disagree with him. If Regulus is as fearless as he feels, maybe that's fine.

* * *

It's not fine, not fine _at all_.

"God _damn_ you!" Orion barks at Sirius. He growls at the heap on the floor that is his elder son, and the darkness on his face keeps Regulus pressed against the corner of the den, far out of reach.

Sirius is fifteen, but even he, for all his bravado, looks like a five-year-old again, curled in a ball with his arms cradling his head, protecting it from another blow. Both brothers had expected Sirius to be slapped—Walburga had read their marks and said nothing to her husband, merely shown him Sirius'. So why? What makes this year so different?

Orion breathes slowly through his nose. The fact that he has that much control means he's sober…so why is he more violent than when he's drunk?

Sirius shakes. His body wants to unfurl, and fear keeps Regulus from running to him to still him, to remind him that cowering is the safest option right now.

"How dare you, you lazy bastard! You've given up on school, have you?"

Regulus stares, shocked, at his brother. Did Sirius really not care anymore? Even knowing what they'd come home to? It can't be true.

"Your marks are in the toilet," Orion snarls, flexing his right fist at his side, "but that takes a simple string to pull to guarantee your sorry arse is back there this fall. What I'd _really_ like to know is the truth of the rumors."

Sirius' shudders still. Regulus looks between them. Rumors? What rumors?

"Do you really have nothing better to do than go diving down the shirt and up the skirt of every witch that strikes your fancy? You're a Black, a pureblood, not some mutt in heat."

Regulus' first thought is that, no, that can't be true. Sirius is known as the school flirt, sure, but certainly Gideon would've told him if he were worse?

But then the more terrifying thought occurs to Regulus:

_How in the hell can Orion know this?_

Suddenly Regulus is sick. He keeps himself in check, because emptying his breakfast on the expensive rug will draw his father's attention faster than Sirius can come up with a retort.

The retort never comes. Orion leaves the room, pausing to look right through Regulus as if to say Sirius is a warning if Regulus so much as stretches a toe out of line, and then there are just the brothers Black.

Regulus says nothing. After several minutes, he cautiously approaches his brother and reaches out a shaking hand to his shoulder.

Sirius, big and brave Sirius, flinches. He throws Regulus' hand off and stomps out and upstairs, slamming his bedroom door shut.

There is no love to be found in this house at Twelve Grimmauld Place, and Regulus can no longer speak to the confidence of his bond with Sirius. More than that, he doesn't know who to blame more—Walburga, for her love of appearances and nothing else, or Orion, for the void in his chest. Dependency isn't love, so Regulus doesn't count Orion's attitude towards the bottle. So maybe Orion is incapable of love. That must be it. So Regulus hates him just a tad more than he hates his mother.

* * *

Regulus is wrong, yet again.

The summer winds down, and Regulus spends another night rereading his collection of Gideon's letters from Christmas break and the small stack of notes Gideon wrote him between classes and passed him in the hallway or in the library. Rereading Gideon's words, be they silly or banal, has quelled the sobs that threatened to escape Regulus this summer, and they're like bedtime stories—although he's always careful never to fall asleep with them spread out. Not only does he not want to smudge a single precious word by risking drooling on them in his sleep, but he can't risk his parents barging in and finding them.

He's a Black, so he knows the family tree well—they're taught to memorize it no later than six years of age. The Weasleys are considered Muggle-loving traitors, and Cedrella was blasted off the family tree for marrying Septimus. It's his blood that runs through the veins of Gideon's sister's husband and her children. Even though Lucretia is still on the family tree doesn't mean her marriage to Ignatius Prewett will be accepted indefinitely; allowing Molly to marry Arthur…mingling ideologies has rarely worked out for Blacks. And Regulus worries what might happen if his friendship with Gideon is discovered, if Orion hasn't been informed already.

This night in particular, however, finds Regulus stuffing his Gideon letters into a hidden pocket in his trunk, a pocket created proudly once he figured out the magic for an Undetectable Expansion Charm, when he hears a ruckus downstairs.

Regulus finishes his task and considers the options. It can't be Sirius—he heard his brother sneaking out his window yesterday, and Sirius hasn't been back and probably won't be back until it's time to leave for the train in a few days' time. It isn't Walburga either, because she left at the start of the week for a girls' vacation with Aunt Druella and their friend, Theomina Nott.

That leaves Orion, and Regulus swallows the lump in his throat. Orion is the last person he wants to check up on…

But there's laughter that quickly quiets down, and Regulus panics. If Orion's drinking and falls, he could die. Regulus doesn't like to think Walburga would find some way to blame him for his father's death, but, more than that, he doesn't want his father to die. It's absurd, considering what he and Sirius have been put through, and Regulus can't make sense of it, so he tucks the sobering yet childish wish for Orion's survival into a corner of his mind to analyze another time and creeps downstairs.

Kreacher's out of sight and possibly asleep, given the late hour, so that and the noise in Orion's study confirms it's his father making the ruckus. There are muffled sentences and more laughter and a "Fuck, I hadn't even had a sip of that yet!" that's undeniably in Orion's rough voice.

The door to his father's study is cracked open, and Regulus presses himself against it. It opens slightly wider, because Quidditch has put a little more weight on his short, slender frame. But the occupants don't notice, and Regulus breathes a sigh of relief.

Alphard's here unusually late, but the grin on Orion's face says he's likely the reason why Orion made it home in one piece anyway. Alphard's a copper-eyed mystery to his nephews, the polar opposite of Orion and an oddball even compared to the rest of the family. He doesn't enjoy his drink the way his brother and brother-in-law do, and he's always been nice, warm even, to Sirius and Regulus.

Regulus frowns as he watches a smirk of Alphard's elicit another laugh from Orion. Maybe this explains everything. Maybe Orion just can't stand children.

He's wishing Orion hadn't bothered having him and Sirius when he catches a grin on his father's face that makes Alphard glare at him. And then, miraculous of all things, Orion reaches for Alphard and touches his cheek.

Odd. Regulus' flashes to all the times Alphard patted his or Sirius' cheek. It's…kind. Perhaps the way a father ought to be.

But Orion is not Alphard's father, and he snickers when Alphard swats his hand away and grabs Orion's glasses to put back on the shelf since—Regulus spies it in the glint of Orion's desk light—a bottle of booze rests on the floor, shattered and soaking into the wooden floorboards. With Alphard's back turned, Orion reaches for him again, but he's content this time merely to play with Alphard's lengthy locks. When Alphard at last turns, the two men share a smile Regulus has never witnessed in this house, and he scrambles back to his room to process what he's seen.

Regulus does not know love. It is not something either Orion or Walburga taught their sons, and Regulus sincerely believed Orion incapable of it.

But that shared smile speaks to a kindness Orion has never shown his wife or sons.

And it leaves Regulus reeling.

* * *

Regulus is quiet and observant this school year. From the train compartment to classes to study blocks—he seeks understanding of this fathomless mystery.

Was he mistaken?

Maybe Orion and Alphard are just good mates.

Outside of the obvious cheating implication…how wrong is their relationship? If it even is that.

When that question trips him up, Regulus thinks it's silly to read into fiddling with someone else's hair. They're in-laws. Maybe they actually get along the way Sirius and Regulus used to, because Sirius used to tousle his hair.

…but, no, he didn't play with it.

Gideon rolls with Regulus' silence after the first few times he questioned it and got no answer. He's worried, Regulus can tell by the way his wide blue eyes follow him, but Regulus can't divulge this to Gideon, not to anyone.

Instead, Gideon fills the silence with more of his own life, of his plans for the future. "O.W.L.s await you next year, you know," he points out as they sit in the library in late October.

Regulus tenses. Sirius faces O.W.L.s this year, same as Gideon. If he can't get them, then what does it mean next summer?

Gideon pokes the back of Regulus' hand with the feathered end of his quill, useless for getting attention but good on someone rather jumpy like Regulus. "Mind out on the pitch, Reg?"

He opens his mouth to reply, but a memory tickles his brain. This isn't the first time Gideon's called him by a nickname, and he narrows his eyes at Gideon. He's not annoyed…frazzled, perhaps.

Gideon cocks his head to one side, like an innocent pup.

"No, not really," he answers. He reads over his Potions essay. "You were saying about O.W.L.s?"

"If all goes well, I'm planning to take the N.E.W.T.s meant for Auror training."

It's not ice in his stomach but stone. Regulus…can't fathom that. He doesn't know about the family businesses, but he's never had a good feeling about them, especially with Bellatrix seemingly disappearing with Rodolphus shortly after their marriage (and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes he's absorbed no news about Narcissa or the others since they've left Hogwarts, if there's been any news at all). But one thing for certain is that, despite Ministry influence, there's never been a Black in the Auror Office. He lifts his head from his homework, concern tainting his tone with the odd squeak as he points out, "But—that's dangerous work, Gid."

He blinks as they both realize Regulus' informal slip-up but forges ahead. "I know. But I'd like to do it. With Dark wizards running around…" He shakes his head. "I've a lot of people I want to protect."

Regulus frowns but understands. Where he has himself, Gideon has his parents, his siblings, and what seems like an unending factory line of nephews.

That's why it's startling to find Gideon staring so intently at him when he meets the twin's eyes again.

"What?"

"You're one of those people, y'know."

It's both a fact and a promise, coming from Gideon's mouth, and Regulus splutters. He thanks him, and they resume their homework while Gideon envisions a future where he'll make time in his Auror schedule to see each and every one of Regulus' matches because, of course, Regulus has the talent to go pro.

Regulus never considered that before. He loves Quidditch, as much as one can love a sport or other intangible concept, but he never thought it an acceptable route for his future. Sirius' fame jokes aside, Regulus sincerely has believed all this time that, maybe even before he graduates, his parents will come to him and declare his future—job, wife, residence—and that will be that, all tied up with a neat bow because Walburga would have nothing less.

But letting Gideon plan his future is a much more pleasing thought, and it calms Regulus' minds on nights when his family situation's lack of sense tries to keep him up.

* * *

The Black brothers spend Christmas break at Hogwarts again this year, Regulus smiles as he ends up with a new stash of Gideon letters over break, and Sirius pointedly ignores his brother in the halls just as Regulus ignores him and the pleading look Lupin shoots him when Sirius' back is turned.

Lupin, perhaps, wants the brothers to reconcile, and Regulus theorizes as much to Gideon. Gideon shrugs but can see how he'd make that leap.

"The Marauders are thick as thieves, but James and Remus are different in Sirius' life," he says as he walks down to the pitch one Saturday afternoon in mid-February. Regulus has told him a hundred times he doesn't have to join him when Regulus wants to practice, but Gideon's always happy to tag along.

"Different—you mean he sees Potter as his brother," Regulus bitterly amends.

Gideon purses his lips and shrugs a second time. He doesn't have to echo Sirius' words that have been heard a time or two outside of Gryffindor Tower. Sirius really does see Potter as his blood.

"But, even Lupin?" Regulus has never understood why he and Pettigrew fall into the same group as Sirius and Potter, but he long ago stopped wasting brain power trying to decode the secrets of their friendship.

"Remus is a lot more sensitive than James is. Sirius leans on them in different ways, I s'pose," Gideon states.

"What for?"

Now Gideon hesitates. He drags his feet, slows enough that Regulus has to stop and face him. Gideon gently pushes the broomstick handle away from his face. "Well, Reg…"

Regulus furrows his brow, waiting.

"Sirius—Sirius was in rough shape when the year started. And James told Remus this was a recurring theme last summer." Gideon rests sad eyes on his friend, the blue a less vibrant, melancholy hue in the overcast gray sky.

Regulus grips his broom tighter and grits his teeth.

"Regulus…"

He bristles. "Don't ask."

Gideon pauses. "Fabian, Frank, and I overheard, you know. But it fits. Seven blokes to a dorm—the castle's accommodating, but we've seen parts of him yellow before."

Regulus swallows the thick lump in his throat and marches for the Quidditch pitch. "And I suppose you extrapolated the rest?!" he shouts, loud enough for Gideon to hear if he can't keep up. "Is _that_ why you included me in your protection list?! I'm someone to be _saved_?!"

Gideon's height favors speed, and he catches up to Regulus in no time. He grabs Regulus' left shoulder and turns him. "No," he replies, tone even, his word delivered without hurry. "You're—"

Regulus flinches. If Gideon says "family," then he really doesn't know Regulus at all.

Gideon, the reliable dolt, understands, and he pulls Regulus to him. This hug is less timid than the Clock Tower one. It's reassuring. It's—it's Regulus captured, rooted to the spot until he acquiesces that it's all right for Gideon to care about him.

Regulus huffs, the sound muffled by Gideon's shoulder. He awkwardly lifts his arms and returns the gesture, though his hands don't wrap around Gideon fully. He has to settle for tangling his fingers in Gideon's cloak, somewhat difficult with a broom still in hand.

Satisfied, the redhead straightens up. His eyes rove over Regulus, as if he's uncertain to believe Regulus hugged him back. He reaches up—

—but Regulus turns away a second time, and this time Gideon doesn't push it. Usually, Regulus has no qualms with Gideon mussing his hair.

But this year is different because the memory of Orion and Alphard keeps coming to mind.

* * *

Halfway through spring, Regulus realizes that he's unconsciously had another example in front of him this whole time. It's not just that… _odd_ intimacy between Orion and Alphard.

Sirius is the same way.

With Lupin.

At lunch, on a Thursday, Regulus' eyes never leave the Gryffindor table despite having Gideon over here at the Slytherin one with him. It takes fifteen minutes of staring at the Marauders, watching their interactions, for it to click with Regulus.

Sirius is a fun-loving bloke and friendly with everyone. But the Marauders are different. Pettigrew gets teasing, half-arsed gentle punches to the arm when he says something amusing. Potter often waggles his eyebrows with Sirius after something inappropriate. And Lupin—

Lupin, like Potter, is reclined on by Sirius. But he's the only one whose hands get held and whose hair is played with. And that's been going on for years.

The tender roll melts on Regulus' tongue as he forgets about the rest of his meal. Sirius is a flirt and has dated maybe half the school's witches by now, but…there's never that gentleness, that intimacy he has with Lupin.

Of course, he scolds himself, that's based on what can be seen in public. Nevertheless, despite all of Sirius' changes, Regulus still knows some things about his brother, such as how Sirius isn't one to grow close to another lightly, not in the way that someone can come to know him well enough that it might hurt.

Is that it, then? Why Orion and Alphard hide? Is it really too dangerous to let someone else in that, if one does, it's best to keep the secret between the two and share it with no one else?

Regulus pushes the rest of his food around on his plate with his fork. He…he's not willing to keep a secret like that himself, and he's thankful he knows well enough not to follow in their footsteps.

"Regulus, are you all right?" Gideon pulls Regulus' plate away so the younger Black looks at him.

"…just musing about the dangerous game my father and brother play," he thinks aloud. It doesn't occur to him that Gideon may take that as a euphemism for the abuse. Regulus is simply wandering through his thoughts, calmed by his newfound relief.

* * *

Gideon's been a good sport this year. He hasn't taken it as a blow that Regulus was more careful about their public appearances. He doesn't know that Regulus fears spies in the halls that report back to Orion about every single move his sons make, because Regulus won't tell him.

But they do seek refuge from time to time, right up until the last few days of the year, in the Clock Tower. It's dusty and decrepit and seemingly unsafe, so others rarely come here. The spot is perfect, though, for anyone looking to laugh and chat and be themselves, because the space isn't enclosed and the clock's chimes keep everything from echoing, even raucous laughter.

They're laughing right now, even, sitting side by side on the rough wooden floor, because Gideon can't help but do a perfect imitation of Fabian's and Potter's ill-advised Valentine's invites for Meadowes and Evans, respectively. Better yet, Gideon huffs the way Evans had and mimes tossing his imaginary long tresses over his shoulder.

Regulus laughs hard enough that he falls into Gideon's side, which in turn has Gideon doubled-over, guffawing. The slight snake rolls into Gideon's lap, and he's barely able to catch his breath as he stares up at Gideon hovering over him. "At least Fabian's went well," he reminds the twin.

Gideon shrugs—an odd move when he's bent over—and scrunches his nose up. "Yes, well—Fabian's brooding is almost as bad as his preening when things go right."

"'So either way, he's insufferable,'" Regulus says in time with Gideon.

"Hey! I don't say that all _that_ often."

"No, you don't. Just several times a week ever since Meadowes gave your brother a chance."

Gideon blushes. "Oh, Godric. I have, haven't I?"

Regulus grins in response.

Times like these feel right and wrong to Regulus. Wrong, because they're too good, they must belong to someone else's life. Right, because…well, _because Gideon_.

He smirks as Gideon grows confused, judging by the squiggle that is his brow, over what else amuses Regulus at the moment.

Gideon huffs, knowing he won't pull an answer from Regulus, but stays put, content with the view. "Back to real life for a moment—"

Regulus scowls and closes his eyes. "Do we have to?"

"It's just a few more years, Reg. Then—then you're free."

He doesn't have to open his eyes to imagine the forlorn puppy look on Gideon's face. "But, first, I have three more summers ahead of me."

"…yeah."

The Clock Tower is silent save for the turning of the gears. Neither boy moves.

"…listen, I know you can't write, but—is visiting a friend out of the question, too?"

He sighs at the obvious answer to Gideon's question. Sirius sneaking out is one thing, because he's brave enough and has someplace to go. Regulus can't ask that of Gideon, he just _can't_.

"…all right," Gideon says, shoulders sagging.

Regulus' eye flick up to him, a quick frown pulling his mouth open into a gape. "Gideon, I—"

Gideon doesn't frown. Eyes half lidded, mouth jerking up into a tiny smile—that's his tired-but-understanding expression. "I get it. I'm sorry for pushing."

Regulus is halfway to stuttering out an apology when he freezes.

Gideon's still bent over him, but it's his freckled hand that has Regulus' attention. That hand is halfway to the curl on the left side of Regulus' face, and it pauses. Gideon so clearly wants to wrap the curl around his finger, but he waits for permission because this isn't just tousling a mate's hair over something inconsequential.

Whether Gideon comprehends his own desire, Regulus turns him down right away, hurriedly sitting up and nonchalantly running his own hand through his hair.

The moment passes, neither of them says anything, and Regulus embraces the silence for the first time in his life.

* * *

But that summer is filled with yelling and shouts and screams.

Regulus doesn't know where to begin when he catalogues the "exchanges" his brother has with their parents.

Maybe they are done letting Sirius run out behind their backs.

Maybe they have missed all the Christmases and Easters having him within arm's length.

Maybe they know, at a glance, what Sirius' course load from the past year means, even without him brazenly telling them.

But Regulus goes in order, because that's the way his brain works.

No sooner do he and Sirius come home than the front door slams shut and locks and Orion whirls on them. No, not on them—on _Sirius_.

"Do you realize the disgrace I've faced because of you?!" he bellows in Sirius' face.

"Hold on, let me guess which one," Sirius retorts.

It's bold and deadly to answer like that, and Regulus can't help but gawk at his brother.

Orion gnashes his teeth. "Twice. _Two times_! Potter made a scene at the Ministry, wondering why your mother and I refuse to let you visit your friend."

The revelation is stunning but momentarily confusing until Regulus pieces together that he means James Potter's father, not Sirius' best mate himself. But now they know: The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Sirius shrugs. "It's cozy at their place."

"I didn't need half the Ministry knowing that you were sneaking out to their home!" Orion snaps.

"Then let me hang out with James openly."

The request is a feather about to graze a primed Erumpent horn. Orion turns red in the face, as if he's already three sheets to the wind while trying to determine his reaction to the demand.

When no answer comes, Sirius scarpers up to his room and Regulus reluctantly follows. But neither boy was dismissed, and they pay for that later in Orion's study, with fists and heavy tomes peeled from their father's bookshelf only to be lobbed their way. And they are expected not to dodge a single blow.

Curt remarks earn automatic slaps this summer, and Regulus has his fair share for each time he looks away. Sometimes the slaps are true punches, but mostly they're slaps because those are less disruptive to Orion's and Walburga's day.

The heated arguments return before the break's halfway gone, though. Walburga tells her sons in a clipped tone which classes they will take the coming year, and Sirius stops her right there.

"No."

Walburga narrows her eyes at him in the sitting room. She sits with perfect posture in the armchair across the coffee table while her sons sit on the sofa, Sirius leaning forward on his knees with his hands dangling in his open lap and Regulus attempting to sit as rigidly as possible in an imitation of their mother.

Before she can question her hearing, Sirius shakes his head. "No," he repeats. "I got the necessary O.W.L.s. I'm going to be an Auror."

The academic itinerary wrinkles in her crushing grip. "You will _not_."

"I will."

"No Black has been an Auror!"

"Before know," he acknowledges with a shrug. "I'll be the first."

" _No Black has been an Auror_!" she repeats. Her snarl is a good echo of her husband's.

"Then maybe I shouldn't be a Black, if it matters so much to you."

The brothers split apart the second they see the tip of her wand light up, Sirius jumping to his feet diagonally and Regulus clumsily crashing into a small drawer, catching a vase in time before it shatters and makes things even worse.

Walburga Black has used her fists before, as well as an open palm, but she tends to leave those types of beatings to Orion. No, Walburga's punishment of choice always has been spells. The precise kind, the unseen kind, the excruciating kind.

"Stay _still_ ," she hisses.

Memories of trauma, of cuts that healed closed as soon as they were open but nevertheless kept on hurting, flood Regulus with adrenaline. He catches Sirius' eye, and his brother's determination is written all over his face:

 _"The time to run is_ now _."_

But—Regulus _can't_. He just can't. Even though this summer has been one of the worst, he knows he can survive. He can pull through. So why can't Sirius just realize that already?

They can have whatever they want so long as their desires align with their parents'.

…which never has been and never will be the case with Sirius.

Sirius dodges their mother's blasts with efficiency and speed Regulus didn't know he possessed. He runs so fast to his room that his feet practically fly over the stairs, and there are crashing sounds and the window clatters open, and the house goes still.

Regulus, who has remained in the sitting room somehow, looks between the white-hot fury on his mother's regal features and the hallway. After an eternity (two minutes) of nothing, he shuffles upstairs and peeks into Sirius' room.

It isn't the way he remembers it. Sirius' room is an ocean of maroon and gold. His clothes—what little remains—are strewn about and torn, in the cases of some of the formalwear. There are pictures of scantily clad women postered to his bedroom walls, and it takes a heartbeat for Regulus to be stunned, seeing that they don't move…they're Muggle collectibles.

There's nothing of importance left, Regulus is certain, even if he were to sift through the debris. Morbidly, he thinks, at least the window didn't shatter.

Walburga approaches silently, and Regulus only knows so because she silently Charms Sirius' door to close, and the squelching sound means it's Sealed shut.

She says nothing else to Regulus, but downstairs she howls like a madwoman and lobs more spells.

Regulus can guess where she is when she finishes, because her final spell scorches the wall, and the acrid stench floats upstairs.

Sirius Orion Black is no longer on the family tree.

And, having so easily left Regulus behind, he is no longer Regulus' brother.

That bond broke the moment Sirius ran without him.

* * *

Regulus has no confirmation but can guess Sirius ran away to live with Potter. The stray thought joins him from time to time, when he's lonely in his room, when Gideon's old letters aren't enough to chase away the jealousy over his brother's—no, _Sirius'_ —freedom.

He plays it safe for the last month and a half. He's so quiet so much of the time that he nearly forgets the sound of his own voice.

But, the day before they take him to the station, Orion and Walburga call him into the room with the Black family tree papering the walls. When he approaches, Walburga keeps her eyes glued to all the remaining faces, but Orion turns to his youngest (his only) with a…a relieved expression. He's almost smiling.

It's not the smile he shares with Alphard, but it's a start.

"Regulus, good," Orion utters, two words that rarely go in the same sentence. "Given…this summer's…tribulations, we wanted to check in with you."

Regulus internally recoils. Did Sirius pull a prank on him and swap out their parents? "Father?" he prompts.

"You've never had any qualms being a Black, have you?"

It's a trap.

But Regulus knows better than to fall for it.

"Never, Father." _Always, you arse_.

"You've seen the good lives your two cousins have."

"I have, Father." _Two? So Andromeda really doesn't count anymore just because she married a Muggle-born?_

"And you want the same, don't you?"

Regulus' mask almost slips when his brain forces the memory of Gideon in the Clock Tower to the front of his mind. "Yes, Father," he lies (he doesn't know why it's a lie, but it certainly feels like one).

"Good." Orion breathes a sigh of relief. "Keep up your studies, keep winning at Quidditch, and we'll have your life set for you by the time you graduate from Hogwarts."

"Before," Walburga corrects.

Both wizards turn to her. "Sorry, Walla?" Orion asks.

"Before," she repeats, her eyes lingering on Bellatrix's portrait on the tree. "Before you graduate from Hogwarts."

Orion drops his voice low, but Regulus hears him regardless. "Before? Are you certain? Bellatrix can't possibly talk him into—"

"She's laying the groundwork," Walburga replies. "Rodolphus has known him longer, but she's climbed the ranks faster—" She comes to an abrupt stop, suddenly realizing Regulus is present. "You, leave. Make sure you're completely packed for tomorrow."

Regulus obeys without question.

He's left wondering what their discussion means, though. Why bring up Bellatrix and Rodolphus? Do they really do the same line of work? Regulus thinks that daft, even more so the idea that Bellatrix or Rodolphus might put in a good word for him at the company. Still, Bellatrix must be a hell of a witch to have earned such rights—

His thoughts freeze when, the next day, _The Daily Prophet_ reports a string of kidnappings and assaults by You-Know-Who's ever-expanding entourage.

And witnesses describe someone who sounds an awful lot like Bellatrix.

Regulus convinces himself that that's people's imagination at work. There's no way anyone in their family would let their views on blood purity carry them into the waiting arms of a madman. Certainly not someone as headstrong as Bellatrix—it's known that she made Rodolphus publicly grovel before she accepted his marriage proposal.

But Orion and Walburga, if any of it's true, can't be thinking of such a future for Regulus. He's their youngest ( _only_ ), and he's carrying on their names, so why risk throwing it all away to push an agenda that the Ministry likely will stop?

Love, he thinks, has never existed in this household. But the air here _is_ permeated with danger, and Regulus knows, if he's not careful, it will suffocate him to death.

* * *

"He's all right, in case you're wondering."

Regulus looks up to find Gideon walking up to him in that place of all places, the entrance courtyard, where the grass is green in the spring and the stone's cold as hell with it at one's back even in late September. "I wasn't," Regulus corrects. He closes the Potions book in his lap because Slughorn would love him even if Regulus' next potion curdles and because Gideon's come to join him.

"'Course you were," Gideon retorts after lowering himself onto the ground with the corridor's outer wall at his back. He grabs Regulus' text before the Slytherin can protest. "You're on page one of chapter two, and I'm guessing it's supposed to be half read by tomorrow, yeah?"

Regulus glowers at him. "Give it back."

Gideon closes it and places it on his other side, out of reach. "You can afford to chat for a little while, Reg." He raises his eyebrows. It's the truth; fifth years and up have more study blocks because of the exams and subjects they face down the road.

"…fine. But does it have to be about him?"

"Thought it might be nice to hear from someone you actually like."

Regulus rolls his eyes. "As if Lupin won't try to find me and explain. Or worse—Potter, come to gloat."

Gideon purses his lips at the insults to his friends. "James wouldn't gloat. Not about this."

Seeing Gideon remotely upset makes Regulus remorseful, he knows by the wave of guilt in his chest. He pulls up a knee and rests his arm on it. "…you say he's fine?"

"Mostly, yeah. He gained half a stone just off James' mum's cooking alone," he adds with a chuckle.

Regulus doesn't laugh. He knows he eats better and more regularly at the castle, especially since he became a Seeker.

Gideon lets his laughter die down. "He won't talk about it, much. At least, not with me and Fab or Frank in the room. I'm guessing the other three know everything, though."

"Did he guess Mother burned him off the family tree?"

The Prewett pales. It's a sight every time, because Gideon paling makes his freckles stick out like Quaffles against an overcast sky. "That's—"

He shrugs. "He's disinherited. They won't change their minds."

Gideon's frown deepens into a grimace, and Regulus hates the way he leans against him. "Are you…?"

"I'm safe." _"For now,"_ a voice adds in his head. Much as he can't tell Gideon about his father and uncle possibly cavorting about, he can't voice his theories about Bellatrix being—what do they call them?—a Death Eater and the possibility of that same grim future lying in wait for him.

It's late in the day but still early for dinner. They turn their heads as a soft glow emerges from down the hill, in the direction of the boathouse, as lights come on to conquer the incoming darkness. Light behind them, from the entrance hall, comes and goes as bodies shuffle inside and out.

Gideon dwells on Regulus' words, and Regulus wonders what would be a better topic. Then—

"Is it always going to be the case?"

Something in his tone reminds Regulus of that day in the Clock Tower at the end of last year. Regulus' arms sprout goosebumps, but from excitement or fear he doesn't know.

"If it comes to it, and lack of safety's no longer a doubt in your mind, you know you can run away to my home."

"Running away takes courage."

"Sirius didn't always have it, y'know."

Now Regulus looks at him, though Gideon stares towards the steps leading to the boathouse. He turns his head with tremendous effort, as if scolding Regulus is his least favorite thing to do.

"He didn't. We all saw the bruise on his arm after Christmas in first year. It looked as if someone still had their fingers around his arm."

Regulus remembers that. Sirius had sampled the treacle tart before they were supposed to play host to Christmas dinner with both sides of the family coming. Walburga had yanked him away so fast that he'd gone limp in her grip.

"James said something then. But Sirius brushed it off. Even the silent pleas Remus sent him didn't work. It took years for anything to penetrate."

His throat seizes, hot and thick. "He was planning to run away all along," Regulus realizes.

"At least for the past few years, yeah." Gideon studies him carefully. Then he drops his voice. "If you need to plan, I want to help. I have a bad feeling—worse than the thought of a Bludger ever knocking you off your broom—that you don't have these last three years ahead of you."

"You worry too much," Regulus dismisses.

Gideon sulks and twiddles his thumbs in his lap. "Is there such a thing as 'too much' when it comes to worrying about you?"

"I'll be fine. I won't make the same mistakes Sirius or my father has."

Gideon picks his head up, barely, and turns that pout on Regulus. He probably has his question primed on the tip of his tongue, why Regulus mentions his brother and father but not his mother. But he doesn't voice it, because he's frustrated with Regulus for making light of all this.

Regulus gives him half a smile, because he's apologetic and hates that he can't let Gideon win. He reaches over with his free hand and lazily brushes Gideon's fringe aside, because it's hard to see those beautiful blue eyes when Gideon's hanging his head like this—

—and he stops, his fingers threaded through Gideon's hair.

For all Regulus knows to be careful, for all he doesn't know of love and the world, he knows he just fucked up right after he promised not to. The danger has lurked around him all this time in the form of Gideon's friendship, and now it's morphed upon Regulus' recognition of its true form.

This danger—this _love_ —will suffocate him and be the end of him…but, he thinks as Gideon nears him and nudges their noses together, if it's with Gideon, then it's one lesson he's willing to learn the hard way.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, good Merlin. D8 So, it's been about 5 yrs? since I last wrote a Regideon, and WOW this got heavy real fast. Most of my other Regideons have been a little less Reg-centric and fall within the [Maydayverse](https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Maydayverse/works), my overall headcanon for the fandom, but I found I wanted there to be this linkage amongst the Black wizards, even if it's not fully explained. I warred with myself over ending this on Regulus' biggest "oh, shit" moment, but I quite like this, even though I'm toying with doing a part two to this (hence leaving it marked as a WIP on FFN & on AO3). I'm huge on the friends-turned-lovers trope, but it'd also been a while since I wrote such a slow build that I got maybe a little too cozy XD because my last longfic was back in September, the oneshot "[bad blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010145)" (although, with a glance, I see "[The Sound of an Amorous Stranger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20713103)" was also that month, so YAY for longfics! XD). I also haven't focused much on how Riu and Reg grew up in their household, so this was also a change of pace for me. Let's see, what else… Writing this coincided with cross-posting the first Oriolphard fic, "[The Courtship of Alphard Black](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498624)," to AO3 and to tumblr, and that was quite the stroll down Memory Lane, rereading that (esp considering that 2012 fic occurs well before Riu and Reg were born instead of in the Marauders' era like this fic). Also, there are a lot of allusions to canon even though this feels like an AU to me, and Gideon is a good egg. ;w; So, if you need more Regideon, please scour the Regideon tag on my HariPo fic tumblr (camelliacats), and also omg pls go read Morghen's "[we will be the last ones standing](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8069435/1/we-will-be-the-last-ones-standing)" because I honestly consider that the ultimate Regideon fic. :3
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review!
> 
> -mew-tsubaki :O


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